Gathering Information
by None Of It Matters
Summary: A short drabble based on the Weselton bodyguards' activities before they headed up the mountain. One-shot.


Horace, the guard, had just finished gathering up the last of the blankets from the cupboard. With the bundle of cloth in his arms, he headed back for the freezing environment outside, where many of his fellow Arendellans were waiting for a blanket of their very own.

The guard stumbled over his own feet and his hat slipped off the top of his head.

"For God's sake..."

With one arm struggling to keep the blankets from falling everywhere, Horace carefully reached with the other one for his cap. Just as his fingers touched its green surface, he thought he heard something from down the hall. He looked to his left.

It was unmistakable: two voices of men trying their best to be quiet. One was deeper than the other, but he was sure they were both male. He was also sure that no one was supposed to be in that wing of the castle at the moment.

Horace stole down the hall towards the first door on his left. The soft carpet under his clean boots helped to silence his footsteps.

He put an ear up to the door.

"Not finding...if I...should check the next one..."

The broken, muffled sentences was all the guard needed to hear. He stormed into the room, ready for action, and came face-to-face with the intruder.

Horace immediately recognized the man as one of the Duke of Weselton's bodyguards. The man's red uniform clashed with the green of Horace's own. Under a different context, they could have very well been celebrating Christmas, but in this case the situation was decidedly more serious.

Horace dropped his bundle of blankets and reached for his sword.

" _Stop right where y-_ "

His sentence was interrupted when someone came up from behind and kicked his feet out from beneath him. Two powerful arms wrapped around his head and neck, cutting off his oxygen. Horace flailed about, trying to draw his sword, but it was no use. Within seconds, he slipped into unconsciousness. But his assailant did not let go.

"That's enough, Gideon. We really don't want to have to explain a dead body right now."

Gideon, the intruder's partner, let go of Horace. He lowered him to the ground and dragged him to a corner, propping him against the wall. He looked back to his comrade.

"You know, Silas, he's going to remember us when he's done sleeping it off," said Gideon.

Without even bothering to make eye contact, Silas spoke to him as he resumed rummaging through the drawers of the large desk.

"If you did it right, he won't."

Gideon eyed the pile of blankets Horace had dropped.

"He was right to barge in on us, though. We _are_ supposed to helping with the relief efforts right now. And we're also supposed to be watching the Duke."

"Arendelle has enough guards, they can hand things out themselves. And the Duke can learn to not always depend on us. He's a big boy, he can take care of himself."

Gideon watched Silas carefully place various items back into a drawer and return it to its rightful place in the desk; it was like it had never been touched.

"Whatever happened to our Duke's old bodyguards, anyway?" Gideon asked.

"He doesn't like to talk about it."

Silas stood back and surveyed the desk intently, thoughtfully stroking his mutton chops.

"It's got to be here somewhere..."

"How are you so sure?"

"Because I've encountered this desk before back in France. Its design is meant to incorporate hidden compartments, perfect for concealing all sorts of important documents."

"...oh," said Gideon, feeling stupid. Silas seemed to read his mind.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, it was before your time. It was before I even had _these_ yet."

Silas gestured to his facial hair.

"I guess I still have a lot to learn, then."

"Yes, you do. And here's a quick lesson: start growing some hair on your face, it'll make you look like more of a man. The clean-shaven thing you've got going on right now isn't working well."

Gideon touched his smooth face. "I don't see a problem with it."

"I do. You're a warrior, not some soft bugger like that Prince Hans."

Gideon smiled a bit at his partner's casual insults. He knew it was just Silas' way of blowing off steam.

"What do you think of the prince, anyway? He seems to be a rather generous fellow," Gideon said.

" _Pffftt_. Generous, my arse. Any idiot can give away stuff that isn't his."

"But still, it is admirable to see him take charge of the situation."

Silas snorted. "He's faking it."

Gideon smiled again, amused at how his friend always seemed so sure of himself. "How do you know?"

"When you've been in this line of work as long as I have, you can start to read people like a book. Believe me, _I know_. Types like him are always hiding something."

Silas stopped searching the side of the desk and began to look underneath it. While he did so, Gideon looked through the clear glass of the nearby window. From there, he could see snowflakes falling from grey skies onto a frozen fjord.

"The coronation was an interesting affair, wasn't it?" Gideon said.

"It was," Gideon heard Silas say from under the desk. "I really do wonder what will happen to this place. It certainly doesn't help that both of the royals are roaming about the mountains."

"Who would have ever guessed the queen would have magic, though. _Magic!_ "

"Quite the shocking turn of events, indeed."

Gideon ran a hand through his hair and looked back at the desk. "When I saw those giant icicles...I really thought I was going to die."

"You had good reason to. If the queen wanted us dead, she could have killed everyone in that room."

Silas got back up from under the desk and moved to search the far side of it.

An awkward silence filled the room. Gideon cleared his throat.

"I...I um, guess you could say the queen really gave the kingdom _the cold shoulder_ , am I right?"

Silas stopped and stared up at Gideon. A corner of his lip twitched upwards, and he slowly shook his head at the younger man before he continued searching.

Silas' efforts were rewarded when his thumb accidentally depressed on a switch, cleverly hidden amongst its wooden surface. A small panel in the side of the desk opened up, revealing two simple pieces of paper, folded up.

"What did you find?" Gideon asked as he walked over to his partner.

"Looks like one of them is a letter."

Silas unfolded one of the papers, taking note of the wax crocus seal on it. He read aloud from the uniform words, penned in clean handwriting.

" _Pabbie. I hate to say it, but I need your help again. I've tried to help her with her powers as best as I could. It's been years and we've made such little progress. I know her magic is different than yours, but maybe you could help her with it? Perhaps lessons of some sort? At the very least your valley could be a safe place for her to use her gift. I'm sorry to ask this of you, but I'm at my wit's end. When my wife and I return from our trip, we can discuss this further. As always, burn this letter when you're done with it. Your friend, Agdar._ "

Gideon rubbed his chin, intrigued. "What could it mean?"

"Who knows. But that's one letter the king must have never gotten around to sending."

Silas opened up the second paper. This one did not contain a message, but rather a map of Arendelle. The two men looked it over. It depicted the immediate area, the surrounding mountains, and the forest. A red dotted line ran through the map, leading toward a valley northwest of the castle which was labeled with Arendelle's native runes.

"Maybe this 'Pabbie' person lives there?" wondered Gideon aloud.

"Maybe. These runes might tell us something, but I can't read them and I doubt you can either."

"So...what do we do now? You're the experienced one."

Silas folded the papers back up, placed them into their original hiding spot, and closed the small compartment.

"No idea. We can't spend all day here. People are eventually going to come looking for us," he said with a sigh.

"We should probably get going then. The Duke must be fuming mad right about now."

"Fine. Help me lift him, then."

Silas indicated Horace, who was still at the other end of the room, out cold. The two men picked him up and moved him to the desk, sitting him on the chair. Horace slumped over the desk.

"If anyone finds him they'll just think he's sleeping on the job," Silas assured his partner.

They both took one last look around the room, ensuring that nothing was out of place. Satisfied, they left.

"I hope you're ready to die today, boy," warned Silas quietly as they headed down the hall.

"...what?"

"Ever since that...'accident' as he calls it, in Weselton...the Duke doesn't take kindly to magic. He's already on edge, it's very likely he'll order us to take out the queen."

"Come on, she's just a frail little woman. Surely the two of us can take her?"

"You saw her magic. Even someone as good as me is still just human. But _her_...she controls the very winter. She's like a force of nature. Compared to that we may as well be ants. You better make peace with whatever God you believe in, while you still can."

"Hmph. Well, I'd rather die young anyway. It beats old age."

Silas turned to his comrade and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I like you, kid. If I get ripped apart by ice shards by the end of today, well, there's no one else I'd rather die alongside than you."

Gideon smirked.

"Same here, you old bastard."

He gave Silas a light punch on the shoulder, and they both headed into the frigid outdoors.


End file.
